Waiting for the Earth to stop spinning
by Toomuchheart
Summary: Modern Merlin Fic - It's the year 2013 and Merlin is still waiting for Arthur to return. Strange things are beginning to happen around him. Could dare to even hope? *Soulmate Merthur*
1. Chapter 1

Merlin allowed himself to get up out of bed, and looked outside his cottage window towards the Isle of Blessed, as he has always done, and smiled at the golden rays of sunlight sweeping in through the wisps of clouds that were scattered across the blue sky. "Looks like a good day", he mumbles, and stumbles over to the shower.

Today was one of his favourite days. One of those blessed days where he could talk about Arthur, and about Camelot, and tell tales about the knights of the round table to the children from the local school. The children loved his stories of magic and dragons, and the teachers and parents loved him for his charm and wonderful storytelling.

It always took him a while to get used to each century, the world changing around him in a steady pace, and he could feel it all. He could feel the earth spinning underneath his heels at immense speed, he could hear the songs of a million birds singing, shaking him right down to the core of his being; he could smell the earth and water, merged into each other, and he could sense the presence of every single being on this planet, all 7 billion of them.

7 billion.

Yet he still felt a gaping hole in him, that nothing could fill or cover up. He'd learnt to live with it, come to embrace and hold on to it with his dear life even, holding onto a part of Arthur that continued to live inside him. Some days it would be excruciating, and some he'd feel the love sweep through his soul and fill his every pore. But it did not matter, what he felt. What mattered was that he stayed here, right here beside Arthur until he rose again, for he was certain it would happen one day. Despite having waited over a thousand years, he still believed and waited patiently with hope, it never wavering once. The dragon had told him that Arthur was destined to rise again, but more than that, Merlin could feel the ever-lasting presence of Arthur. Maybe it was his magic. Maybe it was just him. All he knew was that however many years it took, he would wait here, right here in his small cottage beside Avalon, until Arthur needed him again. Just like Merlin needed him.

He ate his breakfast and then got ready to go out, sliding the jacket over his skinny chest. He's nearly forgotten. Foolish. Old age does that to you. He picked up a small vial filled with liquid, and drank the whole thing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Powerful wizard as he may be, he still couldn't stand the taste of that awful ageing potion. He looked into the mirror on his way out of the front door, and stared for a second at his old, wrinkled, wise face, and then turned away. It was better this way. No one ever suspects an old man. He could spend most of his days by the lake without question. People usually left him alone. He was a good man, they said. Sits by the lake most of his time, as if he's lost something, as if he's waiting for it to just turn up. But a good man, they say. He'd turn back into his normal self for other stuff, such as work, and pretend to be the grandchild of his older self. No one ever questions it. Like he said, they tend to leave him alone.

He makes his way down the narrow road hidden by overgrown trees and bushes, and comes out onto the main road that leads towards the local school. He can hear the children laughing and shouting from here, and smiles with happiness. One of his favourite days. A day filled with memories.

He reaches the school and the door immediately opens up to reveal a petite, blonde woman, who smiles warmly at Merlin. One of the teachers at the school. And possibly one of Merlins favourite people in this decade.

"Finally, Emrys, I thought you weren't going to show up. The children have been driving me crazy asking about when you'd get here"

Merlin chuckles "When have I ever not turned up, Margaret? You should have more faith in me, I wouldn't miss today for the world"

She laughs and moves aside to let him through the door. He walks up to the classroom door, and hesitates for a moment with the palm of his hand pressed against the cool wood, takes a deep breathe, knocks and enters. He's suddenly trying very hard to stay upright as he's engulfed in a stampede of hugs.

After he's got the kids to sit down, and he's seated himself in front of them them, he looks up cheekily, and says "What will it be today then? Dragons? Witches? Love? Or perhaps goblins?" He likes to get the children to choose the tales. It makes it easier for himself, for he wouldn't know where to begin.

"GOBLINS!" a few of them pipe up, and he nods his head slowly, knowing with story to tell. The children looked at him patiently.

"Yes, Goblins. I'll tell you something, you don't want to ever come across one. Annoying creatures. Causes mayhem where ever it goes. This tale is about how one of them once possessed Gaius, and how Merlin had to do everything in his power to save him…."

He finishes the story with a grin on his face. The children are smiling at him. One of them speaks up.

"Is this why you're named after the greatest sorcerer ever, Emrys?"

Merlins eyes crinkle at the end "Yes. My father was very fond of the legend of Merlin and Arthur. It's why my grandchild is named Merlin."

"I think it's a great name." the kid says, and the rest nod in agreement.

Merlin sits still, moved. It fills him with warmth to see people enjoy his tales. Memories for him. Myths for them. Nonetheless appreciated. It was important to him that Arthur and Camelot were not completely forgotten in the world.

He leaves the school after a while, and turns and walks in the direction of the lake. He doesn't see Margaret watching him go out of the window. "Off to the lake again." She whispers. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Emrys."

He reaches the edge of the lake and pauses. It feels different, today. He almost thinks he can feel magic in the air. He sakes his head. Magic has long been dead. Died out alongside the dragons and sorcerers many years ago. There's no magic left in the world except his own. The loneliness he used to feel in Camelot for having to hide his magic is nothing compared to being completely alone in this world. What he would do to have another sorcerer, someone like him, beside him. He shakes his head one more time. Wishful thinking. It doesn't do him any good, and he has to stop doing it. He looks around him. Completely alone. Why not? He takes out a vial and drinks the liquid it holds. He wants to be Merlin for once, instead of old Emrys by the lake. He doesn't do this often. He smiles and sits down on the grass, and looks out towards Avalon. For over a thousand years, he's done this. And for over a thousand years, every single day he's thought of a single memory of Arthur, or Camelot, or Gwen, or Gaius. It started a few years after he'd lost Arthur. He'd started to worry about forgetting small bits of him. So he'd think about him, sometimes he'd remember how he used to wield his sword, or how he used to tease Merlin, or his smile after a victory. And sometimes he'd remember the blueness of his eyes, and his great compassion he used to show to everyone. Anything. It's what keeps him sane.

He picks through his memories until he settles on one. And he's not sure why it's this particular memory he's settles on today, since it's the one memory he has actually fought hard against remembering.

The memory of Arthurs death.

It causes him no pleasure to remember the event. But yet he can't help himself today. He mind wanders to this very spot, years and years ago, although he can see it as clearly as if it had just happened yesterday. Arthur dying in his arms. Arthur giving up. Arthur dying. And the pain that sears through him is as strong as it was that day, and Merlin can't help the tears that escape his eyes, running down his cheeks, he starts to sob. He remembers setting Arthur off towards Avalon on the boat, that last time he would see him in a very long time. The day he lost his best friend.

"Silly." he mumbles, wiping his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to stop his tears. "I miss you Arthur. I miss you. Please, just….just come back already. Just please come back."

He must have been sitting by the lake for a couple of hours when he felt it. The slight tremor of the earth. He straightened up, his senses on full alert. This wasn't any natural disturbance. He could tell the difference. There it was again! He stood up and looked out towards the Isle of Blessed, squinting. There was something wrong, this didn't feel natural. This felt like magic. Yes, he was certain of it, this was the work of magic! He couldn't possibly describe the emotions running through him this very moment. Excitement. Fright. Wonder. Curiosity. And….hope?


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin lost count of how long he's been by the lake, his bones aching from his tense posture, his ears perked up listening for…. he didn't know what he was listening out for. It was nightfall when Merlin finally let himself relax. He looked down and realised he was shivering. He was soaked. He must have wade into the lake at some point, trying to find the source of whatever was setting him off like this.

But there had been nothing. There was nothing but stillness in the air, the lake stood unmoving, eerily silent and pitch back despite the moon being the brightest Merlin had ever seen it. And suddenly Merlin wanted nothing more than to be as far away as possible from the Isle of Blessed.

He walked back towards the road that would take him to his cottage, shivering uncontrollably. How had he not noticed how cold it had become? His mind went back to the lake. What had happened there? He almost didn't want to believe it, yet he had definitely felt magic. He started walking faster, keen to be by his fireplace, and to mule things over in the warmth.

A car went past him and honked, making him jump. He watched it's figure disappearing around the corner ahead of him before moving on again.

He reached to his front door, and spent a few minutes fumbling around with his keys. He hands were numb from the cold and turning slightly blue. It was almost painful handling the keys in his hand. He sighed in frustration and whispered under his breath, hearing the click of the lock unlocking, and pushed his door open. All these years later, and it still felt wrong to use magic for any other propose than to serve Arthur.

He lit his fireplace, and sat down in front of it with a cup of tea. He was grateful for having installed a boiler system, but the fireplace was his favourite way of warming up, and it would fill him up with nostalgia.

Sometimes he'd be speechless with amazement at how much the world had changed. Advanced so much that there was conveniently no need for magic any more. Humans lived longer. Physicians, or as they called them now, Doctors, could do things no one in Camelot could ever dream of. If Gaius was here, he'd be at awe, at just how far his profession had come to pass. You could be in another country in a matter of hours. Communicating with someone miles away took mere seconds. It would never cease to amaze him. He smiled slightly at the thought of Arthurs reaction to this world.

He rubbed his hands together, finally feeling them come back to life, and then allowed himself to go over what had happened today.

Magic.

Surely this meant one thing. Arthurs return. It made no other sense to him. The thought made tears appear in his eyes, and he smiled into the fireplace. If this truly meant Arthurs return, then he would be seeing his old friend again. He'd dreamt about this moment for a thousand years. How would Arthur be? Would he have changed? Would he remember his last moments he shared with Merlin? Tears started to drop down his face, and he allowed himself to let out a content sigh. The feeling running through his body was euphoric. He could yell with happiness. Instead he allowed himself to cry on, holding his mug close to his chest.

He woke up in that same position, with the rest of his tea spilled across his carpet. The sunlight was hitting his eyes, blinding him, and he stood up, his knees almost giving away under him from having been in the same position all night. He stretched. What time was it? He didn't want to be late for work. He got ready and left his cottage, looking up at the grey clouds in the sky swirling against the ice cold wind while attempting to walk down the side of the road, and tightened his scarf across his neck. He scratched his chin. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and his hair had grown out much longer than he usually let it grow.

He was just rounding the corner when it happened. He felt it a second before it hit him, giving him enough time to put his hands across and shield his face, and then he heard the rushing of the icy wind against his eardrums, his head pounding along with it; a heavy force smashing into his chest, throwing him through the air so powerfully that had Merlin not been ready it would have surely killed him. He yelled out, his voice getting carried away during the whole ordeal. He managed to soften his fall, but it had knocked the wind out of him. He lay gasping, trembling on the ground, scared to move. After a few minutes he slowly lifted his head an inch off the ground, and looked around. It had stopped as quickly as it had started. He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, breathing heavily. He felt nauseous. He made his way onto his feet, feeling dizzy, and grabbed onto the bark of a tree, closing his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. If he wasn't careful his breakfast would be leaving him. Taking deep breaths, he opened his eyes, now looking around properly. No one was there. Yet he felt something in his presence. Terror washed over him, and he pushed himself off the tree, and shakily making his way round the corner and on to the main road, and stopped, his eyes widening, staring at the scene before him.


End file.
